


The Taste of Freedom

by f0rever15elf



Category: The Great Wall (2017)
Genre: Catholic setting, F/M, Food mention, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, PIV Sex, Public Sex, Sacrilege, masturbation mention, sex in a religious building
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:53:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27803347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/f0rever15elf/pseuds/f0rever15elf
Summary: Dropped at the convent by your parent for being too wild, you spend your days wasting away in a place you’d rather flee from. When a brooding mercenary takes his rest within the walls of your convent, you find your chance. A whirlwind of passion will lead to your freedom.
Relationships: Pero Tovar/Reader, Pero Tovar/You
Comments: 8
Kudos: 59





	The Taste of Freedom

**Author's Note:**

> Excuse me while I go find the holy water

Life in the convent is always the same, day in and day out. Wake up and attend morning prayer, attend breakfast with your sisters, then chores around the convent, dinner, afternoon prayers and studies, supper, evening reflection and then bed only to do it all again the next day. Life as a Postulant, always so dull. Variation comes in the form of the Holy Days, or the days that visitors seek shelter among your walls. It isn’t often this happens, but when it does the halls always buzz for days as the newest Postulants and Novices giggle and gossip out of earshot of Mother Superior and her switch.

Today is one of those days. Mother Superior has gathered everyone in the dining hall just past dinner time for a meeting. The convent would be opening its doors for two travelers for a few nights while they rested and resupplied to continue their trek North. Hired hands of the king in the North, she tells everyone, but you all know what this means. _Mercenaries._

The excitement of meeting these newcomers courses through your veins hot as hellfire. It’s your first time having visitors to the convent since you had been unceremoniously abandoned here by your parents several years ago. Too rowdy, too rambunctious, too out of control they had called you. All because you refused to conform to their teachings that threatened to cripple your soul and steal your personality. So they rathered to just get rid of you in a way that wouldn’t compromise their “good Catholic morals.” A habit truly did not suit you.

Later that night, before supper, you and your fellow Postulants gather at the gates to welcome your new guests and see them to their rooms so they could prepare for supper. You had heard stories of the mercenaries, of the sell swords. Rough, brutish men who knew only how to fight and kill for coin and food. It thrilled you that finally, _finally_ you would get to meet them in the flesh.

They dismount before entering through the gates, leading their horses behind them as one man with long blond hair in a braid down his back approaches Mother Superior. He has truly lovely eyes and a handsome smile that the girls immediately begin buzzing about until a stern look from Mother Superior silences them. “Peace be with you, weary travelers. We offer to you room and board to rest your heads as you prepare your services for the king in the North. Rooms have been prepared for you by the newest members here, and supper will be laid out in half an hour for you to come and eat your fill. While you stay here, we are your humble servants and ask only that you respect the house of worship with your humble silence while our Sisters pray.”

“In your house, we will do our utmost to respect your rules, Mother Superior. We thank you for your grace in letting us stay here among you.” The blonde’s voice is smooth as the silken stoles of the priests as he smiles at Mother, but you find your eyes drifting to the man standing just behind him at his right. Dark and silent, he offers no words as the blonde speaks, his eyes constantly scanning the area. That is, until his eyes fall on you. Your own eyes widen and you feel your cheeks grow hot, but you can’t seem to break his gaze, caught like a bird in the gaze of a snake. When he finally releases you to look at his partner, you suck in a deep breath, your whole body feeling feverish.

“Are you alright?” Sister Maria whispers, leaning close to you. You clear your throat softly, nodding, but Maria doesn’t look convinced.

“The girls will show the two of you to your rooms.” Mother Superior waves forward both you and Maria, introducing you to the two men and you bow your head in a polite greeting as you try your best to not get caught in the dark man’s gaze once again.

“Thank you, Mother Superior,” the blonde one answers, turning to smile at both of you. “Thank you for your willingness to show us around, Sisters. My name is William and my compatriot here is Tovar.”

“It’s a pleasure,” Maria purrs and you can feel the daggers Mother Superior is glaring at her. Her knuckles would be bruised tonight, you’re sure of it. “Tovar, I’ll show you to your quarters.” The dark one, Tovar, grunts as he tears his eyes from you to follow after Maria.

“I guess that means I’m with you!” William chirps and you nod with a cordial smile before turning to lead him down the halls to the empty bunk room. “Your home is truly lovely. You do a fine job at keeping it.”

“Thank you. It’s a part of our duties as Postulants to maintain our home in such a way. It’s a holy place, so the rules state we must care for it as such. It’s not much different than caring for a chapel of the people. It is something kept strictly for the Postulants to do.” Your smile is terse as you stride along the corridor. Most wouldn’t notice, but these two mercenaries are not most people, as you would come to find out.

“It sounds as though you’re unhappy here.” William’s voice is low as he walks beside you and you glance around nervously.

“I’d ask you not to say such things in common areas. The walls here have ears, and I’d rather not face Mother Superior over such a thing.” The corners of William’s mouth turn down further at your comment, but he nods and drops the subject. The rest of the walk is made in silence until you open the door to his room. It’s small, simple, just like the rest of the convent, but it is well kept. “The linens are fresh, and the chamber pot is clean. Should you need anything, you can find me or any of the other Postulants for assistance. We are your humble servants during your stay here. Your friend’s room is just down the hallway, the second door on your left. Supper will be in roughly half an hour, and we eagerly anticipate having you join us.” You give him another tight smile as he thanks you before you take your leave to head to your own room and prepare for supper. You need to wash your face and calm yourself down before you meet them again.

As you walk briskly with your head down, you fail to notice Tovar standing outside his door until you quite literally slam into him. He grunts as he catches your shoulders to steady you, eyebrow arched. “I would use more caution, Sister.” You gape at him, words suddenly fleeing from your mind as you once again freeze under the intensity of his gaze.

“I… I’m not… a full Sister. Just a Postulant,” you manage to rasp out as you quake in his hold. His hands feel like fire where they grasp your shoulders. Strong fingers flex against your shoulders before letting you go, the corner of his lips quirking up in a way that could only be defined as mischievous.

“I see.” Such a simple sentence, but full of so much weight under that beautiful gaze. Your stomach flips and your mouth goes dry as you take a step back from him.

“I need to prepare for supper. I look forward to seeing you there.” You give him a polite nod before rushing down the hall, your habit ruffling. Tovar’s eyes follow the whole way, and though you are fully covered, you have never felt more exposed.

~~~~

If there is a Hell, you are sure that this is it. You sit across from Tovar at dinner, and though he eats like a man tasting his last meal, his eyes never leave you, save to answer a question from Mother Superior before locking right back on to you. Your appetite is non-existent, your fork chasing the vegetables around your plate as your blood rushes loudly in your ears. Surely he must realize what it is he does to you? When you catch his eye once by accident, your suspicion is confirmed. That same smirk from when you collided with him in the hall not even an hour before is still plastered on his lips and it sends a shiver down your spine.

“Are you well?” The voice of Mother Superior breaks you from your stupor and you snap your attention to her. Her face holds concern, but in the strictest sense of the word. All eyes in the room fall on you and your voice catches in your throat as you try to respond.

“I… No, Mother Superior. I feel feverish. May I be excused? I feel as though I need to lie down.” Your hands tremble as you make your request, the adrenaline coursing through your veins causing your voice to waver.

“Very well. Please remember your prayers before you rest. I will trust you will do this on your own.”

“Yes, Mother Superior.” You cross yourself before standing, tucking in your chair.

“Allow me to escort you.” The rich, deep voice sends another chill down your spine as Tovar stands from his seat.

“Thank you. Yes, please escort her back, she looks rather unwell.” Mother Superior’s confirmation does nothing to calm you, your heart only racing faster as Tovar comes to your side to escort you. You nod to your sisters before fleeing the room as quickly as you can without raising suspicion. As the door to the dining hall closes behind you, Tovar’s hand finds the small of your back, once more searing you with his touch.

Your mind works a mile a minute as he silently escorts you down the hall, the tension so thick it could be cut with the sword that finds its home across his back. When Tovar’s fingers trace up along your spine, all self-control you might have had disintegrates. You grab his arm and yank him back into an alcove, holding him against you as your hands run up to wrap around his neck. He needs little urging, crashing his lips against yours in a hungry, desperate kiss. He’s rough, lips moving against yours in a manner so harsh it pulls the very air from your lungs and you gasp for breath as you pull away from him, your eyes glassy with desire.

“A habit suits you not, little Postulant,” he rasps, smirking down at you as he grips your hips tightly.

“Perhaps you could help me out of it then,” you retort in a voice far more steady than you currently feel and it draws what can only be described as a growl from deep in Tovar’s chest. He leans in, nipping at your lip in a way that feels so possessive, your heart nearly beats from your chest.

“Your eagerness amazes me _hermosa_.” He grins before tugging you from the alcove to lead you back to your room. Your excitement is obvious, face hot and figure trembling in anticipation as he opens the door to your quarters for you. You make to tug him inside with you, but he resists, chuckling when you whine in a manner most undignified. “Tonight,” he promises. “Meet me in the courtyard.” With that, he parts from you, shutting your door behind him as he leaves you wanting for nothing more than his sturdy touch on your body. Your habit has never felt more suffocating.

~~~

The quiet calm of the night settles over the convent once Mother Superior makes her rounds. She prays over you, asking for a quick recovery and any guilt that may settle in your stomach at the action is quickly eaten away by the anticipation of meeting Tovar under the shrouded darkness of the night’s new moon. The minutes seem to tick on to eternity before you finally rouse yourself from your bunk. As a precaution, you dress yourself in your habit before slinking through the halls, finding your way by memory alone as there is no moon to light your path tonight. Part of you worries Tovar will not be there, leaving you there embarrassed and alone, but it’s a risk you’re willing to take.

“Tovar,” you whisper to the seemingly empty courtyard, sticking to the edge where the trees would shroud you from sight should anyone else be awake at this hour. You’re met with only the call of the nightingale and the songs of the crickets and your heart begins to sink at the thought that he failed to show. That is, until a large hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you further into the treeline. You thud against a sturdy chest, strong arms wrapping around your waist as desperate lips cut off your gasp of surprise. Your eyes instantly slip closed as you melt into his grip, returning his kiss with just as much passion as he provides you.

When he finally breaks the kiss, leaving your panting and quivering, he wastes no time in kissing and nibbling along your jaw and up to your ear. He pushes back your habit, freeing your ear before he nips and tugs at your earlobe, drawing a needy whine from you as he chuckles softly. “I have thought of you all evening, _hermosa_. How hard it was for me to not fuck my own fist to the thought of your needy whine after our kiss in the alcove.” His voice is so deep, it causes your knees to shake as you ache with need for him. It’s been so long since you’ve heard such filthy words spoken, much less to you directly. “The thought of what other sounds I can get you to make has kept me hard for you all night, waiting for this. My patience was truly tested.” His hands move from around your waist to your hips, pulling you flush against him. He wears no armor tonight, in just his breeches, tunic, and boots, and you can feel him hard as steel as he presses against you through your habit.

The ache of want for him is overwhelming, a whimper passing through your lips as you press against him even harder, desperate for some sort of relief. “I need you,” you whine, fingers fisting the cotton of his tunic as you crane your neck to try and find his lips once more. You need to taste him, to feel him, to be consumed by him and just forget for a few moments. To forget the habit you wear, and the prayers you recite every morning. You need all of it to go away, if only for just a short while.

“Then you will have me,” he growls, quickly turning you both around so that your back presses against the trunk of the tree, caged in between his arms as his lips once more find your own. He nips and tugs at your lips in a way that pulls a delicious moan from you while your hands make their way up to his hair, knotting themselves in the soft locks. His hands busy themselves with exploring your body, wishing so desperately that he could see _more_. But he settles for feeling you for now, groping your breasts through the thick fabric. The way it makes you whine into his mouth thrills him, urging him on. “So sensitive,” he groans, tugging at the edge of your habit where it covers your neck with his teeth. “I wonder if the rest of you is as well.”

“F-Find out,” you goad, desperate to quell the ache between your thighs that has been incessant since you first laid eyes on him.

“Oh _hermosa,_ I will.” The dangerous edge to his promise sends your heart into a sprint. “But right now, I need to feel you around my cock.” His chest pressed against yours, pinning you to the tree is the only thing that keeps you from collapsing then and there, and Tovar knows it. “Lift your skirts, _hermosa_.” You obey, any sort of hesitation as far from your mind as humanly possible as you scramble to gather the fabric in your hands. The cool night air ghosting over your core nearly draws another moan from your lips.

“ _D_ _íos mio, hermosa._ How indecent.” The calloused pads of his fingers run along the exposed skin of your legs, straight up to your bare core after having chosen to forgo the undergarments for your little excursion. You grin, relishing in his reaction before he tears a loud, lewd cry from your lips when he runs a finger between your folds. His free hand slaps over your mouth as he leans in close to your ear. “Quiet, _hermosa_ , or our fun will be ruined, no?”

All you can manage is a whimper and weak nod, trembling against him as your arousal coats his fingers. He grunts in approval, removing his hand from your mouth to brace it against the tree by your head while he slowly works a finger into you. “Already so wet for me.” You bite back another whine, clenching your eyes closed as he eases in a second finger while his thumb busies with your clit. Of their own accord, your hips buck against him, desperate for that friction and release you need. So long without any sort of touch save your own fingers has left you so sensitive, already teetering on the edge of your first release. When his lips brush against the shell of your ear as he strokes your velvety walls, the string snaps. As you go ridged under his administrations, his lips quickly find yours, swallowing the wail of pleasure as you gush around his fingers.

As you come down, relaxing against him, he slowly eases his fingers from you before bringing them to his lips. He licks them clean, groaning at the taste of you and oh how you wish you could see his face better to see what reaction you draw from him. You quickly bunch your skirt into one hand, using the other to tug at the string holding up his breeches. When it looses, you shove the offending garment down before gripping him in your fist, leisurely stroking his length. You swallow thickly when you realize just what it is you’re in for. His length is impressive and his girth is no small matter either and he is already achingly hard. Your thumb runs gently over his tip, catching the first beads of his arousal to smear it over him. He buries his face against your clothed neck to hide his moan before his hand reaches down to grab your wrist, stilling your motions.

“ _Hermosa_ ,” he mumbles, muffled by your own garment, “if you continue, this will be over much too quickly.” He lifts his head, dark eyes barely shining in the starlight that manages to filter through the trees. It’s a look that causes your muscles to clench in anticipation, and you slowly let him go. He replaces your hand with his own, notching himself at your entrance as you spread your legs for him. Tortuously slowly he eases himself into you, a low rumble of a moan deep in his chest while you slap a hand over your mouth to stop the whine of euphoria from escaping you. How he manages to seat himself completely inside of you, you have no idea, but he does, and it is here that he waits for you. He looks up to you, his own body trembling with the desire to let loose and slam into you, but he resists. That is, until you nod.

A wicked smile twists Tovar’s lips as he slowly pulls out before slamming harshly back into you. You squeal behind your hand at the sensation of him stretching you so completely. It doesn’t take long for him to set a steady pace, pounding into you again and again. He reaches down to grab one leg, hitching it around his waist as he claims you, and the shift in angle has you seeing stars as you rush frantically towards your next release. That is, until he stills at the sound of movement in the courtyard. He presses up against you, still fully inside your fluttering walls as he tries to hide you both behind the tree as Mother Superior investigates the grounds, lantern in hand. You tremble, aching and desperate for him to move as your bliss slips from you with each passing moment.

Pero grinds against you, not pulling out but simply pressing himself harder against your needy body. He covers your lips with his own to swallow your whimpers of desperation until he sees the lantern disappear inside once more. “That was close, _hermosa_ ,” he groans, pulling out of you once again to reestablish his brutal pace. You whimper, dropping your skirt in favor of clawing at his chest as you chase your high, needing the release. His hand drops from the tree to slip under your skirt, rubbing quick circles against you as he grunts with every thrust and in moments, you’re toppling over the edge once more, tumbling on waves of euphoria for this man you barely know. As you gush around him, the lewd squelching sounds fill the still nighttime air and he hisses, followed by a string of curses in his mother tongue before slamming into you once, twice, thrice more. He presses against you, pinning you to the tree as he paints your walls with his own release and you nearly sob in pleasure at the feeling.

For a moment, just a moment, all that exists are the two of you. All you can hear is the panting of the man holding you upright, all you can feel is him. For the first time in a long time, you can _breathe_. He presses his forehead against your own, eyes slipping closed as he slowly comes down, still seated inside of you. It’s only when you have both found your breath again that he slowly slips from you, earning a disappointed whimper from you. He chuckles, tucking himself back into his breeches before adjusting your skirts and pressing a tender kiss to your lips.

Through hazy eyes you gaze up at him, a lazy smile on your face. “You should go back to bed, _amante_. Mother Superior will surely check on you.” Those words bring with them the weight of what has just transpired, of what you’re returning to, and the smile quickly fades from your face.

“Tovar… I do not wish to be here, in this convent. And after sharing this with you, there is no way I can stay.” You shiver as you feel him slowly leaking from you, running down your leg. He frowns, reaching up to cup your cheek.

“Bed, _hermosa_. We will talk again tomorrow.” You feel tears prick in your eyes, but you nod all the same before pushing off the trunk of the tree, brushing off your skirt.

“Goodnight, Tovar,” you whisper before turning to make your way back inside. By some miracle, you do not pass Mother Superior on the way to your room, quickly disrobing and cleaning up before crawling into bed, a pleasant ache between your thighs the only memory of the night remaining.

~~~~

The next day, Tovar acts as if nothing had transpired, and you are grateful. The last thing you need is Mother Superior growing suspicious of the two of you. The woman has a sixth sense for these things, and your knuckles had been bruised one too many times under her switch for you to have any desire of drawing her ire again. But even still, you wish that you would catch his eye even once to see the look of desire that you still feel bubbling within yourself.

Evening approaches on the second night, and after supper you excuse yourself to the prayer room, knowing that there you would at least be unbothered, allowed to be alone with your thoughts. So wrapped up in your own self-pity are you that you don’t hear the man following you. You sit in the pew off to the side of the room, looking to the portrait of Mary that hangs above the altar at the front. It amazes you how such beautiful art comes from something so… suppressing.

When the seat next to you is suddenly taken, you startle, relaxing only when you see Tovar there smirking at you. Your heart lurches into your throat at the sight, butterflies filling your stomach as your blood courses through your veins. You make to speak, but Tovar shakes his head as he lays his hand on your thigh over your habit. A shiver runs up your spine at the mischievous glint in his eyes before he looks over his shoulder to the door. Satisfied with what he sees, he slips to the floor in front of you and your eyes widen in disbelief. He presses a finger to his lips in a shushing motion before pulling you to the edge of the pew. Then, he disappears under the skirt of your habit.

Excitement causes your heart to pound in your chest, your skin growing hot to the touch as your blood sings in your veins. At night, under the cover of darkness in the courtyard is one thing, but this… This is a different beast entirely. This goes against _everything_ the convent has taught you. And the danger of being caught thrills you beyond belief.

Beneath your skirt, Tovar urges your legs apart, running his hands along the inside of your thighs. The way you tremble and respond to his touch makes his chest surge with a fierce pride that he can’t fully explain. All he knows is he has the unwavering desire to please you, to _taste_ you from the source, rather than simply on his fingers. He rubs at you through your undergarments, and you bite down harshly on your bottom lip as you rest your folded hands on the pew in front of you. He follows with running his tongue along you over your still clothed center, and the warmth of his breath very nearly breaks your composure. How you are going to get through this without being caught, you have no idea.

He slides his hands up your thighs, curling his fingers into the hem of your undergarments before tugging them down, slipping one foot out of them to give him all the ease of access he needs. You feel his nose nudge against your curls, hot breath ghosting over your sensitive center. When his tongue finally traces a hot, wet line along your slit before twirling around your clit, you let out what can only be described as a quiet sob. You bring your folded hands to your mouth, clenching your eyes closed as you tremble in the pew. The sound draws attention from one of the Sisters passing by, and she looks in to see what made the sound. When she sees you so wrapped in prayer, and moved to such emotion, she smiles and nods, continuing on her way.

Tovar smirks at the sound you make, loving the danger of what he’s doing. He knows full well if he’s caught, you’ll both be banished from the convent, which could throw a wrench into his plans of helping the king in the North if word ever made it back to him. He’s never before felt such a thrill. After a moment’s hesitation to allow you to collect yourself, he dives in, lapping at you with no more grace than he eats his meals. Starving. He’s starving for you, for your taste. He has been since he licked your from his fingers in the courtyard. His pants grow achingly tight the longer he works you, his fingers digging into your thighs hard enough that you’re certain they’ll bruise. But you love it, crave it.

His tongue works you masterfully, swirling around your clit before sucking it into his mouth. He forces his tongue in and out of you, soon adding a finger and curling it up, stroking that spot that makes your hips buck against his lips. His free hand presses down on your trembling hips, keeping you in place as he gently drags his teeth across your sensitive bundle of nerves and that’s the last bit you need before white explodes behind your eyelids and carnal pleasure consumes you. You flood his tongue and he greedily laps up everything you give him, leaving nothing behind. Your shoulders heave as you gather your wits back about you, feeling him tug your undergarments back into place before shuffling out from under your skirt.

When you meet his eyes, desire overwhelms you and you frantically look around. Alone, completely alone. Mother Superior wouldn’t be by for quite some time now, and most of the other girls you know are taking this time to cleanse their bodies or walk in the courtyard. An opportune time. You pat the pew beside you, urging the Spaniard up into the seat as you trade places with him, kneeling before him. The irony of the situation, kneeling in this room as you do every day yet for something positively _sinful_ this time, is not lost on you. A smirk graces your lips and you quickly undo his breeches, freeing him from the confines of the fabric. He’s already swollen and leaking and just begging for your touch.

And so you give it to him. Gripping his base, you kiss the tip before lapping at it with little kitten licks. He leans forward, much as you did as he sits on the edge of the pew. Any who saw him would think him bowed in reverence. How right they would be in the most incorrect of ways. He watches your head bob along his length, trying so hard to take as much of him as you can, stroking whatever it is that you can’t manage. Your mouth feels amazing wrapped around him, and oh how he wishes he could sing your praises like some hymnal, but he stays silent as the grave as you work him, urging him closer and closer to that same bliss he just bestowed on you. When your other hand dips to fondle his balls, rolling them gently over your fingers, he _almost_ swears out loud. Instead, you hear the sharp click of his teeth snapping closed as his body tenses. “ _Hermosa,”_ he hisses so quietly you almost don’t hear it. You return it with a gentle hum of your own, keeping your lips wrapped around him as you hollow your cheeks, urging him to his release. Not even a moment later, he finally lets go, whole body going rigid as he spills into your mouth.

The salty taste of him sends a shiver down your spine as you take it all, swallowing any sign of his pleasure. When you feel him relax, you lick your swollen lips and look up at him under hooded eyes, a lazy smile once more on your lips as you tuck him back into his pants, lacing him up. He reaches and wipes a bit of his cum from the side of your lips, watching as you lick it from the pad of his thumb and it takes every ounce of strength he has to not hoist you up and pin you against the wall then and there.

Instead, he stands and makes his way from the room first, not wishing to be caught with you and subject you both to that risk. You take your seat again on the pew, blissful euphoria still humming in your veins when Mother Superior makes her way in. She calls your name and you rise, following her from the prayer room before she speaks. “I saw the Spaniard leaving here. You were alone with him?”

“Yes, Mother.” Your voice is scratchy, and you try to clear it, swallowing thickly.

“You are still not well?”

“Yes, Mother.”

She sighs, gripping the carved cross that hangs around her neck. “It is not good practice to be alone with a man in this convent. Refrain from letting it happening again. Now, go rest.”

“Yes, Mother.” You give her a polite nod before quickly making your way to your room. You need to get out of this place, out of this infernal habit.

~~~~

The morning of the third day comes. Saturday, a day of rest. A day for you and the other Postulants to pursue your hobbies as best you can. It takes you to the garden to work at the flower and vegetable beds. It’s rare to find anyone else out here, most of the other girls choosing to stay inside with their sewing and knitting and the like. But you had always had the love of the outdoors, and this is truly your only chance to experience it ever since being dropped here by your family.

Today is the last day the mercenaries will be here, declaring their intention to leave at dawn the next day, before breakfast even. The ache in your chest is prominent at the thought of the Spaniard with the scar over his eye leaving you here while he rides free to the North. How you wish you could be on that horse with him.

A world weary sigh leaves your lips as you dig into the soil, pulling weeds from where they should not be, working to lose yourself in the tasks. The sound of a twig snapping behind you draws you to your feet, brow pinched in worry. “Maria? Is that you?” The sound of a low, familiar chuckles sends your heart once more into a sprint.

“No, _hermosa_. Not Maria.” You quickly look around before scampering to the treeline, ducking behind one of the trees to find him waiting for you with a gruff smile on his face. His hands find your hips as he presses you back against the tree, lips sealing against yours in a heady kiss that leaves you begging for more when he finally pulls away. He runs a knee between your legs, lifting your habit to your hips as he does before resting his forehead against your own. “I wanted to tell you how pretty you looked with your lips wrapped around my cock, little minx.” The words send a shiver through you as you reach up to wind your arms around his neck, pressing down against his knee situated against your heat.

“And I wanted to tell you how good you felt as I wrapped my lips around your cock.” The grin on your face is unbecoming of one on the path to complete devotion to God, and with each passing day Tovar finds the habit suits you less and less. He presses his lips to yours once more before pulling back to gaze down at you.

“ _Amante_ , I have something to ask of you.”

“Anything, Tovar, anything at all. Ask and it is yours.”

“Pero, _hermosa_. My name is Pero.” His lips quirk into a small smirk as you let his name roll from your lips before he continues. “I ask for you to come with me. Leave this habit that suits you ill and come to the North with me.”

Your heart stutters in your chest at the thought of finally getting the freedom you had yearned for since the day your parents left you here. “Tell me the words from those sinful lips are true, Pero.” You clutch at his tunic as if it is the only thing keeping you afloat. “Tell me you do not play my heart like some elaborate pipe organ.”

He growls in response, once more crashing his lips to yours, drinking you in with such ferocity and desperation that it leaves no room for question. Your knees shake and give out underneath you, but he catches you, pressing your back against the tree in much the same way as he did that first night. Your eyes flutter closed as he tongue brushes along your bottom lip, and you yield for him, letting him explore your mouth as your tongues dance. He groans into your mouth and you drink him in, grinding your hips against the leg parting your own with a feverish despiration that threatens to wholely consume you. When he pulls away, he’s panting for breath, his eyes dark and full of a lust so powerful that your heart skips a beat. You’d have him here, if you could, but the call of one of your Sisters from the stairs to the building interrupts you. In a shaky voice, you call out to her, telling her you’ll be right there all the while staring into Pero’s eyes as he presses his knee more firmly against you.

“Tonight, meet me where we first met, here among the trees. We ride before dawn.” You nod to him, pressing another frantic kiss to his lips before he lets you go, smacking your ass as you drop your skirt and make your way to speak with your Sister.

All day your heart thrums in your chest, excitement and nerves mingling dangerously as you go about your duties and meals. As night falls and the sliver of the waxing moon rises in the sky, you take your leave, this time in breeches you had sewn yourself and a tunic Pero had slipped to your room that evening. You have nothing in ways of worldly possessions, making your escape all the easier.

Surely as the sun rises each morning, among the trees where you first met, Pero waits for you. He looks so handsome in his armor, like your knight ready to sweep you off your feet. He takes your hand, pulling you in for a bruising kiss as he holds you tightly against him, possessive. “William waits at the gates for us, _amante_.” His lips brush your own as he murmurs to you. “Let us away.” You nod, his hand firmly grasped in your own as he leads you towards your freedom.

As you make it to William, he winks and throws you a friendly smile before he hands Pero his horse’s reins. “Welcome aboard, Sister.”

“Not a Sister,” you grin back at him as Pero helps to hoist you aboard the horse. “Never again.” William chuckles and nods as Pero climbs up behind you, his arms wrapping around you as he grabs the reins. The wrought iron gates groan as you open them, drawing a commotion from the convent as lanterns are lit to investigate. But by the time Mother Superior checks your room, you’ve long vanished, riding off into the night towards the North aback the horse of the Spaniard you now call your own. Finally, you taste freedom. And you are never going back.


End file.
